


Linger

by SeraphHT



Category: Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 3, Fallout 4
Genre: Age Difference, Banter, Blushing, F/M, Fluff, Prompt Fill, basically just maxson blushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 05:48:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24089935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeraphHT/pseuds/SeraphHT
Summary: (A fill for the kinkmeme) Scenario: Arthur Maxson developed a huge crush on F!LW when he was a teenager, but either she was ignorant of this or she brushed it off because he was so young. Then one day, she runs into Maxson again in her adventures and he's all grown up and rather handsome too.And he's still attracted to her!
Relationships: Female Lone Wanderer/Arthur Maxson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 28





	Linger

**Author's Note:**

> The prompt for this fill is exactly as in the summary.

Even as they walked alongside each other in the ruins, Maxson still found it hard to believe that it was really her.  
  
“How did you recognize me?” she asked, still delightedly surprised and beaming. “If you hadn’t mentioned that it was you, Arthur, I never would have thought of it.”  
  
The edges of his lips lightly turned upwards. It was no surprise he still remembered her, for she was an icon once upon a time, but it surprised him about _how_ he remembered her. “I could see it in your eyes,” he said, amused. “You still have the wastelander-outsider look in them.”  
  
“I’m not sure if that’s a compliment or an insult,” she mock-punched his arm. “Besides, seeing as how my style now is different from how I was a decade ago…”  
  
“The long hair suits you,” he conceded, appreciating the sleek maroon locks. “It’s a far cry from the messy hair you once kept.”  
  
“Did you just say my hair was messy back then?” she arched a brow.  
  
He recollected her puffy cropped hair-do. It was bedraggled, sure, but it suited her perfectly, looking light and thick, the way strands fell over her pretty eyes and how it gave a wasteland-ish look, but majestically. “Well, yes, but…not in a bad way,” he constructed slowly. “It worked well for you.”  
  
“Relax, I’m just kidding. Originally had a long bob which I didn’t tie up. This was before I arrived at the Citadel, of course. Eventually it kept getting in my face, so I got my hair cut. Would rather live ugly than die pretty.”  
  
“The hairstyle worked well for you,” he repeated, contradicting her last sentence.  
  
“Thank you,” she smiled, and it was still as beautiful as it always had been.  
  
His heart suddenly fluttered in his chest. Maxson paused awkwardly, his brain trying to figure out what just happened. “…a-ah, I apologize for the behavior of my knight earlier,” he coughed, changing the subject.  
  
“Don’t worry about it,” she waved it off. “I look nothing like a Brotherhood of Steel member, anyways. It was no surprise they took me for a scavenger. You set them straight in the end, didn’t you?”  
  
“Yes, but it does not change that he insulted you,” he insisted. “Your deeds are legend within the Brotherhood.”  
  
“Yeah, I could tell from how their jaws dropped when you introduced me. By the way, it’s not ‘The Lone Wanderer’ anymore. Just Myla now.”   
  
“You are still the Lone Wanderer to me.”  
  
“And to me, you’re still Squire Maxson,” she laughed.   
  
It had been a long time since he heard a sound so sweet.

Feeling a heat creep up to his cheeks, he prayed it wasn’t visible from under his beard, at just about the same time a jumpy panic crowded his chest. Okay, perhaps meeting her was quite a shock, but nothing could beat the creeping realization of that fuzzy familiar feeling he hadn’t felt in a long, long time.  
  
Compared to ten years ago, she definitely was prettier—a young lively countenance, silky voice with an equally charming smile. Now however, age took all of her beauty and doubled it; with a ponytail pulled back from her face, revealing high cheekbones, darker tan skin, and how the scar on her cheek had faded, flaunting a pair of eyes as blue as he remembered, if only with added maturity and sharpness.  
  
And he remembered how he, as the little boy he was, fell completely head over heels for her.  
  
It was quite embarrassing, really—but how she spoke so kindly and fought bravely was all it took to win him over. Just as it had been with Sarah, it had been with her. He was a shy, stuttering and blushing mess who had no chance, and two girls to hopelessly crush over.  
  
At the present time, when he first realized it was none other than Myla, he did not recall his silly crush on her until after he commanded his brothers to return to the Prydwen. Even when he did, he felt nothing except a friendly, familiar feeling.  
  
But what he suddenly felt now was not comfortable friendship.  
  
He knew very well what it was.  
  
“So, what have you been up to?” she inquired. “I see you’ve got a story on your cheek there.”  
  
“Just a few months after you left the Capital, I took on a Deathclaw,” he conceded, couldn’t help but smirk at the memory. “It was foolish, yes—but I was a reckless teenager looking to prove myself.”  
  
“I’m guessing you did, because you have got to be the youngest elder ever. Heh, did I ever tell you the first time I fought a Deathclaw?”  
  
“As a matter of fact, you did,” he smiled lightly. “You were a fortnight out of the vault, two wastelanders were running from a rampaging Deathclaw, and it was pure luck that you were wielding a shotgun at the time.”  
  
“Exactly, but it wasn’t enough,” she beamed, as though the memory was a good one.  
  
“Yes. It slashed your shoulder. You showed it to me when you were relaying the story.”  
  
Myla glanced thoughtfully. “I’m surprised you remember.”  
  
Feeling embarrassed, he still put up an amused face. “It’s hard to forget exciting notable stories being told to you as a child, especially if they’re told by someone who destroyed Adams Air Force Base.”   
  
It was also hard to forget when the woman you have feelings for bared her shoulder to show a sexy scar, but he didn’t mention that.   
  
He wondered if it was still there.  
  
Focus, Maxson.  
  
“Touché,” she clicked her tongue, looking out at the collapsed ruins. “I’m glad you made it out of the Deathclaw thing, though. Now you can tell your own stories.”  
  
“Yes,” he said, subconsciously trailing a finger along the mark on his cheek. “I suppose the scar does strange things to your familiarity of me.”  
  
“Arthur, _puberty_ did strange things to my familiarity of you,” she chuckled, patting his shoulder. At that moment he realized he had grown taller than her; she only reached the height of his nose.   
  
For some reason, the thought of her being smaller made his heart dive.  
  
He gulped inaudibly, inwardly cursing himself. He didn’t know this feeling still existed somewhere inside him. He thought it faded when she left to wander the wasteland.   
  
Obviously he was wrong, and its reawakening made him nervous and shy—traits he was sure he had gotten rid of.  
  
“In what way?” he accidentally blurted, regretting the words the moment they left his mouth.  
  
“Should I point out the obvious?” Myla smiled, still chuckling. “Broad shoulders, deep voice, amazing hair…to sum it up, drop-dead gorgeous.”

He knew she was just pulling his leg, yet he still felt subconscious. “When I first introduced myself as Elder Maxson, I was genuinely astounded that you recalled my first name.”  
  
“You think I’d forget the name of the most adorable boy in the wasteland?” she laughed heartily, and just like that his face tinted pink.  
  
“That is mortifying,” he said honestly, and it just made her laugh harder.  
  
“No, but you were so cute!” she reassured, as though that would relieve him of the embarrassment. “You had your lovable stories on your terminal and the way you marveled about Sarah and how you talked of the mutants…”  
  
He just _had_ to put a hand over his face. There was no doubt his entire face was flushed.  
  
“And you know what’s fascinating?” she arched a brow to match with her grin, and he peeked at her from between his fingers.  
  
“No.”  
  
“That you’re _still_ a full-face blusher. You still go pink all the way up to the ears!”  
  
“Goodness, if any of my brothers saw me now…”  
  
Gently, she took his hand away and linked their arms together. His heart jumped to his throat, but the shy frown on his face covered that up.  
  
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop,” she gave in, but the mischievous glint was still in her eyes. “Your secrets are safe with me, squire.”  
  
But the full-face rosy tint did not fade. Her skin felt warm against his own as they walked a few more steps in comfortable silence, like partners in a park. It was strange, how he didn’t mind the contact.  
  
He was tempted to brush his finger over her hand.  
  
“You were gone for eight years, Myla. Where did you go?”  
  
“Everywhere,” she smiled, almost absent-mindedly. “I wandered for a long time without a fixed place, then in ‘82, after someone kicked the NCR out of New Vegas, settled in a quiet town called Goodsprings. Was there for a long time.”  
  
“How was it?”  
  
“Paradise, Arthur. The mornings were sleepy, the afternoons drowsy, the nights soothing. The people loved and looked out for each other,” she sighed dreamily. “And New Vegas…was a rollercoaster. Dangerous and dirty, but alive and beautiful.”  
  
“You sound like you enjoyed it there,” he observed the happiness on her face, and a part of him desired to be there with her. “What made you leave?”  
  
At this, she frowned. “Well…I missed everything. Sure there were luxurious times in the city, and peaceful times in the town, and the view of the empty desert in between…but nothing could beat home, you know?”  
  
He remained quiet. She looked up at him. “I was homesick, I guess. For the Capital, for the Brotherhood and the people in it. When I found out Sarah was gone, well…” her sentence trailed off. She squeezed his arm. “I’m glad you’re still around.”  
  
Maxson wasn’t sure, but it was emotional for her, so he did. Lightly, though—her arm was so small in his hand, she felt strangely fragile, despite the fact he could feel the irregular textures of thin scars littered on the skin.  
  
“Where do you plan on going?” he inquired.  
  
“Megaton,” she said, smiling as though the word rejuvenated her.  
  
“You could come back to serve the Brotherhood. It would be an honor.”  
  
“Sorry, I can’t,” she declined politely, and they stopped walking. “I need to go back there. My days in the Brotherhood, albeit brief, are long since over.”  
  
There was no way to stop the small disappointed feeling. “…I understand.”

A few moments of silence passed, before she gave him a weak smile, but judging from the lively gleam in her eyes, it was a happy one. “Look at you—the elder of the goddamned Brotherhood of Steel, and you’re walking with some homesick wastelander.”  
  
“Sarah did the same thing ten years ago,” he said with a small smile of his own, and surprised himself when he chuckled at the way she lightly punched his shoulder.  
  
“I’m happy we met each other again.”  
  
“The feeling is mutual. I wish you a safe journey to Megaton, Myla, though I’m sure you have more than enough expertise to make it through.”  
  
“You’re damn right I do,” she nodded, and Maxson waited (dreaded) the moment for her to start walking away whilst waving goodbye, but she just stood there in front of him, eyes locked, giving him plenty of time to fall head over heels for those blue orbs all over again.  
  
“Before I go…” was whispered, she stood up on her toes, and he felt the strange rough brush of lips against the scar on his cheek.  
  
She pulled back, a satisfied grin playing across her countenance, when the heat consumed him up to the tips of his ears.  
  
“It was no secret that you had a crush on Sarah and I, you know,” she stated with a teasing arch of the brow, obviously enjoying reducing the grand elder of the legendary Brotherhood to a confused, embarrassed mess.  
  
“Y-You knew?” Maxson felt like crawling into a deep dark hole.  
  
“Yeah, she and I did everything we could to make you blush, because as I said, you’re just so adorable,” Myla laughed, stepping back. “Now you’re irresistible, but the way you turn pink never gets old.”  
  
He watched, stunned and flustered, as she walked away, to disappear into the ruins once more. She glanced back one last time, smiling brightly. “Farewell, Arthur. Maybe if you still like me when we meet again...”  
  
As she receded into the distance, Maxson rubbed his face, heat prickling the spot she had kissed. All attempts to get his mind off her words (and what they implied) failed miserably, and he prayed for the blush to disappear before he reached the Prydwen.  
  
Needless to say, it didn’t, but everybody knew better than to ask him about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Do leave kudos!


End file.
